


Previous Arrangements

by coffeehousehaunt



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Awkward First Times, Awkwardness, Background Kara/James, Basically eventual poly, Drunk Sex, Eventual Kara Danvers/Lucy Lane and Alex Danvers/Lucy Lane, F/F, Implied background unrequited Kara/Alex if you squint, Not explicit but there is sexing, Or just Alex being an Actual Human Disaster(TM), Part of a series but I have no idea what to call it yet, Service Top!Alex Danvers, The Directorship - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeehousehaunt/pseuds/coffeehousehaunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That night is in no way, shape, or form either of their best performances. Still, there was something <i>real</i> about it. </p><p>Lucy is fairly certain that’s what saves them." </p><p>Or: It's Kara and James' first date, and Alex and Lucy struggle through the evening together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Previous Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where the concept of the DEO having "regeneration meds" came from, but it stuck. Maybe "People Gonna Talk"? 
> 
> And also it's hard to have sex with a certain level of injury, people.

Lucy was just starting to think she _got_ Alex Danvers. 

Usually, Lucy’s pretty confident when it comes to Alex. She may not be privy to certain details, or really have any idea what exactly is going on in her head—but she’s pretty certain that she’s got a handle on how Alex ticks, at least. 

And then there’s moments like this. 

“My sister’s interested in you.” 

//

To be fair, Lucy wasn’t aware that she had a problem. 

After all, she has a _very_ different relationship with Alex Danvers than she does Kara Danvers. 

Like now, when Alex is slamming her back into the doorframe and tangling every part of herself that she can manage with Lucy. Kinda like that. 

There’s the residual burn of alcohol passing between them, and Alex breaks away for air and Lucy takes advantage of the moment to push against her and twist them around. 

But for all her training, and all the whiskey they’ve had, Alex moves fluid, like they’re dancing, and Lucy is pinned against the wall, this time with her hands above her head. 

So it’s that kinda night. 

Alex wants to use her hands for other things, though, so while the shock of her wrists in Alex’s vise grip moves through Lucy’s body—before it’s even had a chance to fade—Alex is dropping one hand and pushing forward with the rest of her body. Hard. A thigh pushes between Lucy’s, and _god_. 

But it’s how Alex kisses her that gives it away. Like she wants to disappear against Lucy. 

Lucy’s perfectly happy to oblige. She’s had kind of a shit day, herself. 

She comes with her legs wrapped around Alex’s waist and Alex pushing her back into the wall. Alex doesn’t let her catch her breath; she’s begging her way into Lucy’s mouth again, and Lucy just hangs on and feels her head spin. 

It’s always a win-win when Alex gets in a mood like this. 

But the edge’s come off, now, and Lucy presses her advantage; she drops to her feet, feeling Alex move closer, pulled in by momentum and blind need. She lowers her arms, bit by bit, from where they’re wound around Alex’s neck, hands sliding to tangle in Alex’s hair, sliding down the line of her jaw and neck; over her shoulders and her chest and then her hips, leaning into the kiss before pushing away from the wall entirely. Alex’s hands fall—so _easily_ —from where they’ve been anchored on the wall to cling to Lucy’s shoulders. 

Score one. 

By the time Lucy’s guided her over to the bed, Alex has figured it out, but she’s falling apart. 

And by the time Lucy pushes her onto her back, she’s almost completely naked. 

Yeah; there is absolutely nothing about this situation that makes her think of Kara Danvers. 

So, for the moment, she doesn’t quite connect the dots. 

But she has a good night anyways. 

//

Alex Danvers was _terrible_ company, the first night. To be fair, though, Lucy wasn’t in great shape herself. 

For instance, she kind of forgot that it was Alex’s sister out on her first date with Lucy’s ex-boyfriend. 

That was one awkward night at the bar. 

//

"I know why _I’m_ here ungodly late," Comes the voice from the door, "And I think Director Henshaw might sleep under his desk. But what are you avoiding?" 

Alex flashes Lucy a tired smile and gestures at the photographs and scattered reports annotated in six kinds of pen and highlighter. "Follow-up from the fight today. Wanted to get it out while it was still fresh. Plus, I’ve been out for… a while. I have some catching up to do.” 

One eyebrow hikes. "Didn't you fracture a rib in said fight?" 

Alex waves it off with a wry smile. "Piece of cake. Also, regen meds." 

"Paperwork and pain meds." Both eyebrows, now. "Always a great mix." 

"Didn't say anything about those." Alex smirks. Lucy snorts softly and falls silent for a moment. 

“Y’know, even Supergirl went home after—“ It starts out almost playful, but then comprehension dawns on Lucy’s face, and it shutters; but not before Alex sees something raw and pained in it. “Ah.” 

Alex smiles painfully and nods. Of _course_ Lucy knows. 

There’s a long moment where Lucy appears to find something on the floor fascinating while she chews on the inside of her cheek. Alex becomes very interested in the fingers of her left hand tapping on the countertop. 

“So, um—“ Lucy’s voice cuts into the silence, sudden and sharp. Alex looks at her in time to see her swallow, her brows pinching together. “—There’s this whiskey bar that just opened a couple blocks from my place. I’ve been meaning to go, but things have been a little busy.” A ghost of a smile flickers over her face, gone as quickly as it appeared. 

Alex isn’t sure what to do with that. It’s not like Lucy radiates “come hang out with me”. And they’ve certainly never really interacted outside of work—

—Ignoring that Alex hasn’t really left the base since getting back. 

“—I’d get it if you didn’t want to, but, if you want, it’d be on me.” The Army major is gone, and the DEO director. Alex could deal with either of those, but… 

“Um.” Alex says. Smooth. 

It’s not that she can’t appreciate the gesture. There’s a lot that Lucy has to make up for, in Alex’s book, not the least of which is shipping her off to Project Cadmus. And J’onn. 

That’s the kicker, really. As valuable and committed as Lucy as proven herself—it’s always been J’onn and Kara’s role to be understanding, to accept whatever the world throws their way, and forgive and forgive and forgive. To be endlessly understanding and patient. 

Alex has always had a different part to play. 

And anyways, isn’t there a rule somewhere that you _can’t_ go out for drinks with your sister’s boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend, _on the night of their first date_? She’s sure, somewhere, that makes her a Bad Sister. Categorically. 

But now, Lucy is here, reconciled with Kara, that imposing mask that she usually wears—that cut Kara so _low_ —dropped, making a peace offering to _her_ , too, and Alex was not expecting _this_. 

Lucy nods carefully, her eyes lowered. “Alright, no worries. Have a good night, Agent Danvers. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Wait.” Alex says. One eyebrow hikes slightly. She motions towards the papers on her desk. “Let me get these straightened up first, yeah?” 

//

Alex is pretty certain the last time she drank with other people was the night at Kara’s apartment, with Winn and James. She’s pretty sure that’s not supposed to be normal. 

The bar is nearly full, but it’s actually pretty quiet, considering that it’s downtown National City on a Friday. People are more or less keeping to themselves, either at the bar proper or seated around the place. The mirror towers away behind the bar, and there’s an _impressive_ selection of whiskey filling all the shelves all the way up. 

There’s even one of those rolling ladders off to one side. 

To be totally honest, it makes Alex feel kinda bad. The display is mostly wasted on her; she’s never seen half of these labels, and her main concern when it comes to liquor is whether or not it’s: A, in a glass, and B, in front of her. The label, age, and where it comes from really isn’t something she worries about. 

As long as it burns, she’s fine with it. 

Lucy picked a booth with a clear view of the door and the way back to the kitchen; Alex isn’t sure if it was on purpose or not. She sits so that she has a clear view of both. Lucy’s mouth quirks at that, but instead of mentioning it, she excuses herself to open their tab. 

There’s been a few guys scoping them out, but no one’s approached. Not that kind of place. 

The fingers on Alex’s right hand keep twitching, like an electric shock running through her hand; the itch to pull out her phone and check doesn’t seem to be ebbing at all. The fact that Kara _most likely_ hasn’t texted doesn’t seem to change anything. 

If anything, it makes it worse. 

Alex can’t actually _remember_ the last time she was in a restaurant to just eat dinner. With a friend or even family. Scanning the bar, she’s acutely reminded just how out of the loop she is. 

_”Without me, you have no life.”_

Alex’s fingers twitch against the table. This might’ve been a mistake. 

But what else would she be doing tonight, other than working on those damn reports and checking her phone? 

Lucy returns plus two drinks and less one card. Alex accepts one with a nod and murmured thanks. 

It’s rough and has that savor of smoke that Alex thinks fits her life perfectly. It burns like hell. 

Alex can’t for the life of her think of anything to say now that they’re here—hilarious, given how often she has to pretend to be normal. What do normal people talk about when they’re not on a covert op? Work, right? 

So much for that, she muses, looking around the room. Besides, isn’t drinks on a Friday kind of a thing where you _don’t_ talk about work? 

It feels like a weight in her mouth, on her tongue; in her brain. The words sink back down into wherever they came from. 

So, she drinks. 

// 

Lucy has always _wanted_ to be the kind of person who just… socializes. Effortlessly. For its own sake. But—force of habit, upbringing maybe—she sometimes she suspects she only socializes to get things. 

Like how she bragged about meeting Supergirl to everyone (Kara) at that first game night. After everything she told Kara before, about how scared she was, about what had happened between her and James. 

Sure, she’d partly said it to get a feel for Kara’s position in the game—she’s the kind of girl you feel bad about hating, or even being suspicious of, even when it’s so painfully obvious that she’s head-over-heels, schoolgirl-level, _in love_ with James. _Lucy’s_ James. And the way James stiffened when Kara walked in? 

You can’t ever trust a pretty face like that. 

So Lucy found an excuse to talk to Kara. Figure out just how real this innocent act was. 

Turns out, it was the real deal. 

She _meant_ to warn Kara off. She _meant_ to say _he’s mine_. 

Instead, she left Noonan’s feeling winded and confused, her stomach twisting and her heart on her tongue. 

So when she said what she said at game night later that week, about Supergirl, she made sure Kara heard it. 

And after she broke things off with James the last time, and he kept tailing Kara like a lost puppy, she made sure to tell him she was okay with it. It was never gonna work with them, right? 

She _wanted_ to want to hang out with Alex because human contact, because she wanted to want to have fun, to be generous, to apologize, to build bridges and make things right, the same way she _wanted_ to be okay with having to let James go. 

But truth was, she needed something particular that night, and no, it wasn’t the liquor, or the sex. 

Lucy has always _hated_ needing things. 

Because in her experience, people _never_ come through. 

//

In that respect, the Danvers sisters _are_ a lot alike. 

They always, _always_ come through. 

Even if they are shady little shits sometimes. 

// 

Alex knows she shouldn't be checking her phone; Lucy's no idiot. Still. She sees the hurt flash over her face the moment Lucy notices the reflexive tap of her fingertips on her phone. Feels the instant regret. 

Kara, at least, will call afterwards. 

"So." Alex starts, a sinking feeling in her stomach already. One brow lifts slightly. Challenge. "How much longer are you in town for?" 

"Two days." 

"Ah." Alex nods. Silence. 

She's never had liquor sipped coldly at her before—and Eliza makes passive-aggressive into an art form. She manages not to shrink down, but it takes all her training _and_ her years of dealing with Eliza. 

Those icy green eyes regard her. 

Finally, Lucy sighs, and looks down at her drink; back up. “I’m sorry—D’you need to go? I don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to be here.” It’s remarkably venomless. It’d be easy for it to come off manipulative, challenging, but—

Alex has been watching for that all evening. There’s something in the tilt of Lucy’s chin and the way she chews on the inside of her lip that makes Alex think she’s—of all possible things—sincere. 

For a moment, Alex thinks maybe she should say yes; she’s been shitty company, and she never wanted to come out anyways, but— 

Kara’s gone, and Alex is here, and what is this about _roles_ and parts to play? They’re not singing a damn _duet_. 

That red-K glow, that slick-glossy smirk, comes back. 

Maybe Kara moved out of her role better than Alex did. 

“No,” Alex says, the shape unfamiliar. The shape of the evening, the shape of the words. “No, I—I’m sorry. I’m kind of a mess from the fight earlier. Hank’s been on me to take some time off since we got back to National City, and I don’t think I’ve really left the base since—“ She sighs. “It’s definitely for the best you got me out of there.” She says, mouth twitching up at one corner just slightly. Lucy looks relieved, a little smile starting. 

“So—d’you like whiskey?” Alex internally kicks itself the moment the words leave her mouth. 

Lucy raises an eyebrow at that, and the only reason Alex _isn’t_ blushing is two years of training and field experience. 

Lucy flashes an apologetic smile and toys with her glass. “I guess not especially.” She admits. 

Huh. Whaddya know. “Scotch?” 

Lucy makes a face. “Traumatic memories, Danvers.” 

That gets a smile out of her. “Apologies, Major.” 

Lucy makes another face, presumably at the use of her rank. “Do you? Like whiskey, that is.” 

Alex shrugs apologetically. “It does the job.” She winces internally and tries to recover. “I’m more of a Johnnie Walker type.” She sighs and flashes a quick smile. “Besides, it’s what the brass drinks, right? But cheaper.” 

Lucy laughs softly at that. “Sorry about the choice of venue. I just… Heard good things about the place, but I didn’t really feel like scouting it out solo. Besides,” She lifts up her glass and looks into the bottom of it, swirling the gold liquor in the bottom, “This one’s actually pretty good.” 

Alex nods. “What’d you get?” 

Lucy frowns. “Something Irish that I probably pronounced wrong.” 

Alex feels a full-on smile break out on her face. She nods at the TV screens behind Lucy, the game between National City and Opal City. “I haven’t been following this season. But I heard NC’s supposed to make the playoffs?” 

Lucy finishes her sip and twists to look at the screens. “Yeah. They fucking trashed Opal City the last time they played.” 

“Nice.” She takes another sip before her facade crumbles. “Okay, to be honest, I don’t even follow basketball. The most I know is we have a team.” 

Lucy looks at her and—instead of that glower—one corner of her mouth twitches. “That’s okay. I mostly only followed Metropolis and West Point. And I haven’t even seen a single game this season, with moving from Metropolis, and then back and forth between here and there and DC, and the stuff with—“ She cuts off and takes another drink. 

“You’re doing better than I am.” Alex says, raising her glass with a wry smile before taking another drink. 

“Come on.” Lucy says, setting down her glass with a small smile. “ _I_ had to fill your shoes for two weeks. It took some doing.” She slides into the euphemism so easily; it takes Alex right with her. 

“Yeah. I don’t exactly get off-hours.” She’s not sure why she’s telling Lucy any of this. In a bar, no less. 

“I got that much.” Lucy snorts. “What _do_ you do when they kick you out on the street?” 

“Does drinking count?” 

Lucy shrugs, that smile spreading. “Depends on what you’re doing while you’re drinking.” 

“Lifting.” Alex raises her glass pointedly. 

“Fair enough.” Lucy swirls the whiskey in her glass. 

“A lot of the time, I’m with Kara.” Alex admits, testing to see how that goes over—and because, frankly, she has nothing else on her mind. Lucy’s eyes flicker up, but she just nods. 

“You two are close.” Is all Lucy says. She looks a little bit sad. Wistful? 

“It’s complicated.” Is all Alex can manage. 

“Fair.” Lucy finishes her drink. “Be right back.” 

“Hey, grab me another?” 

“Sure thing.” 

Alex watches the game while Lucy goes back up to the bar. Scans the room. Her phone sits dark and heavy and awkward on the table. 

Lucy slides back into her seat, and slides another drink to Alex. Alex murmurs her thanks, finishes her drink, and takes a swig of the new one. It’s bright, is what she thinks. To be honest, she’s more familiar with wine. 

She mostly avoids drinking when she can. Same as she avoids being home alone. The two seem to go together. 

“So,” Lucy says with a crooked smile, “You drink as well as you shoot, soldier?” 

_That_ gets Alex’s attention. “Was that a challenge?” 

Lucy settles back in her chair. “Seeing as neither of us is any good at sports.” 

Alex can accept that. “We should leave the nice whiskey for the kids.” She jerks her chin in the direction of the bar. 

Lucy’s smile widens into something downright predatory. She lifts her drink and drains it all at once—a one-eighty from her easy sipping earlier. It makes something in Alex’s stomach heat, the easy way she switches into it. 

Lucy sets down her glass. Her eyes are sparkling and bright; they flicker from Alex's face to her drink and back again. “You coming, Danvers?” 

// 

Alex isn't sure what to expect. For one, she did _not_ expect that Lucy kept a place—not hers and James’ old one, either—in National City. 

Given the small amount of time Lucy spends in one place, Alex doesn't expect what she finds. 

It's minimal, of course; has that barely-used air to it that Alex recognizes so well—but even if it's sparse and silent in that way that often-empty places usually are, it's obvious that someone lives here. 

It's in the sparse furniture—that still manages to look unique, maybe even expensive; carefully coordinated and set up like sometimes, Lucy does entertain people here. The way the kitchen is clean and everything squared neatly away—but there's actual food in the fridge, the cupboard that Lucy reaches into for the whiskey and glasses is undeniably, understatedly dark and warm-colored, and the pieces that Alex _can_ see—

Stainless steel, brand-name, _matching_.

The place is fully-furnished, things _match_ , and unlike Alex, who occasionally has to ask Kara for some implement or other, or just do without, Lucy has everything she needs to actually _live_ here, like a real adult. Someone with a life and stability. 

Alex isn't usually self-conscious at all, let alone about her apartment, but she's suddenly glad they didn't go to _her_ place. 

"Nice." Alex comments, sliding into a bar seat at the island in the kitchen. 

“Thanks. Being liaison between the DEO and the Army has its perks.” Lucy sets the glasses on the counter. “—Not that they helped me _pay_ for any of it, but Hank did point me in the direction of this place. Never would’ve found it on my own.” 

“I guess he does know the area.” Alex muses. Lucy’s earlier comment comes back; it’s a question every new class of probies seems to fixate on. Where _does_ Hank Henshaw sleep? 

The answer he’s had them spread—and she’s never seen any evidence to the contrary—is that he doesn’t sleep. 

When she looks back, Lucy’s looking at her with a slight furrow in her brow, a little bit wary, a little bit like she’s chewing on the inside of her lip, trying to figure out if she should ask a question. 

“How long did you know?” She asks. The slight warmth from the whiskey at the bar disappears; Alex is suddenly hyper-aware of the sound of the air vents, the whispers of movement from the apartments around them. Her hands tighten. Lucy looks down like she’s embarrassed. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that.” She opens the bottle and starts pouring. 

Alex doesn’t relax until she remembers the look, eyes locked with Lucy even after Colonel Harper had gotten up and declared the interview over. 

She wonders if Lucy took it personally that she lied. Put her on the spot to catch her in it. Send her to Cadmus. 

Lucy offers the other shot glass to Alex with a slight lift to one eyebrow, like she’s trying to gauge whether or not Alex will flee. Alex takes it; takes the whole thing in one long, burning line, and doesn’t know why she answers. 

“A month. Two, tops. Same day as the earthquake.” 

Lucy toys with her shot, but doesn’t take it. Her brow furrows further. “You barely knew him.” 

Alex chooses her words carefully. “After Supergirl came out, my mother told us that my father had been recruited to the DEO shortly after Kara’s arrival. He’d been recruited by—and died serving under—a man named Hank Henshaw.” Alex pushes her shot glass back at Lucy. “Hank recruited me, about two years prior. He didn’t mention a thing about my father being DEO, or serving under him.” 

The shot glass seems to startle Lucy into the present. She takes her own shot, refills both, and slides the glass across the counter. 

“A prisoner escaped during the earthquake and killed three of our men. J’onn saved my life and put the prisoner down. Afterwards, he told me…” She takes a breath that’s shakier than she means it to be. “He told me that my father died saving him from Hank, and that he’d promised to look out for me and my sister. 

She takes the shot, and feels the flare of heat in her eyes when she opens them and meets Lucy’s eyes. Something fierce flares inside her. 

“J’onn and Kara are part of my father’s legacy. I became responsible for that when he died.” 

Lucy’s eyes blaze back at her, searching. Finally, she takes her shot. When she brings the glass back down with a _clack_ , those green eyes flutter open slow and her breath sighs out and the air gets _hot_. 

“Thank you.” Lucy says, a note of formality in there that belies the shot glass and the whiskey and the liquor-brightness in her eyes. “Just remember that there’s a legacy I swore to uphold, too. Don’t ask me to break that.” 

Alex nods. There’s no agents stepping out of the shadows to handcuff her, and there’s embers flooding her veins. She should be mad, or suspicious. But she’s not. 

She pushes her shot glass back at Lucy. “We drinking, Major, or what?” 

// 

Lucy flips on the TV again for background noise; a rerun of a game between NC and Metropolis. Alex feels the burn start to move through her limbs, the liquor finally starting to hit. 

Lucy walks different when she’s been drinking. Not clumsy; she sways just slightly, more graceful, almost. 

Or, Alex is drunker than she thought. 

Lucy straightens, smoothing her hands down her jeans. She comes back over and takes her shot. 

“Game.” She says, holding up her shot glass as she leans on the counter. “Who’ll win: NC or Metropolis?” 

“You know I’m gonna have to say NC.” Alex says. “Besides, you said they’re slated for the playoffs.” 

Lucy raises her chin and one eyebrow with a slight smirk. “So’s Metropolis." Of course. "Every basket Metropolis scores, you take a shot.” 

Fuck. It’s a rerun—shouldn’t she remember the score from the news? 

God—she doesn’t give two shits about the news. And—maybe—she’s been a little distracted lately. “And you?” Alex asks. 

“Backing Metropolis.” She says like it’s obvious. “Every time NC scores, I’ll take a shot.” 

“Prepare to get plastered, Lane.” 

“Careful, Danvers. We’ve got one hell of a team.” 

//

Three shots in, her and Lucy are both standing and shouting at the TV. Alex is a little surprised at herself—and at Lucy. 

She’s a force, when she’s on her feet and swaying slightly, fierce and jabbing her finger at the TV. 

NC sinks a shot over Metropolis’ defense, and Lucy lets out a disgusted sound and takes her shot almost vindictively. She slams the shot glass back down. She tosses her hair and hisses out her breath, and Alex can’t take her eyes off her. 

The TV is the only light source in the room; in the stark light, Lucy looks nothing like the Army major in the DEO, her hair loose and disheveled and a flush on her cheeks. Lucy runs a hand through her hair, intent on the screen. 

Lucy’s eyes flicker over to hers, and Alex realizes she’s been staring. 

“You’re going down, Danvers.” Lucy snaps, apparently completely unaware, and she steadies herself, focusing on the screen. 

Alex takes another shot just to have the excuse to close her eyes, thanks whatever force out there was covering her ass, and tries to focus on shit-talking and the game. 

This is what happens when she doesn’t get out enough. 

// 

“ _Take_ it, Danvers!” Lucy jabs her finger at the bottle as Metropolis sinks a three-pointer. 

“Yes, _ma’am_.” Alex fires back, already lifting the shot glass to her lips. 

She opens her eyes to Lucy practically devouring her with her gaze. Alex’s brain goes trigger-hammer-fire. Static. 

Lucy smirks, and that heat _could_ just be competition. And the fact that she hasn’t been laid since before Thanksgiving. “Don’t you forget it, Agent.” 

“Just”. 

//

“Oh! Oh, what was _that_ , Lane??” Alex crows as NC opens their lead by another three points. 

“ _That_ was the shittiest excuse for a defense I’ve ever seen.” Lucy grits out, refilling her shot glass and throwing it back. “First-year law students could run a better defense than _that_.” 

Alex smirks. “Don’t get bitter ‘cause you picked the wrong team.” 

“It’s only halftime, Danvers.” Lucy promises, and stalks off to the bathroom. 

// 

Alex is surprised the next time she looks at the bottle. And she’s seen a few. 

"Damn, Lane. You can throw down." 

“Don’t act so surprised. And it's Lucy. You're drinking my whiskey." 

“They teach that at West Point?” 

“Extracurricular.” 

Alex laughs. “Oh, hey—it’s back on.” 

Lucy materializes next to Alex. “Get ready to get your ass kicked, Danvers.” 

NC steals the ball and makes a break down the court. Slam-dunk. 

Alex fills Lucy’s shot glass and offers it to her. “Alex.” She says with a smirk. 

Lucy huffs and takes her shot. 

//

Ten minutes into the third quarter, Lucy stops in the middle of a retort, grabs Alex by the collar of her shirt and kisses her. 

Alex’s mouth _hums_ ; Lucy’s lips warm and electric against hers. Her nerves buzz, all the way down her neck. Her body feels blurry and indistinct. It’s so easy to part her lips, for it to turn into something warm and open, tongues sliding against each other, hands open-palm, full press molding themselves around the curve of ribs, cords of muscle down her back; to just _go_. 

It’s probably sloppy and drunk, but it’s like re-drawing the boundaries of her own skin with the friction and pressure of Lucy’s. 

She can feel her heartbeat in her lips when they come apart, bright hammering pulses along her nerves that send her thoughts tumbling half-formed. 

It feels like a whole other universe, where Kara is out with James. Where they’re here, the ones left behind, with all the lights off to hide the empty rooms inside. 

They might be drunk, might be nothing more than nerve impulses with bodies carved out of the dark by the TV light, but they’re _entire_ ; complete. They’re _here_ , not across the city or the state or the country projecting themselves to someone else’s side. 

For the first time in a long time, she feels _full_. Like she’s her own. Even if she feels stunted and shadowy, for the first time, she thinks she can learn this being-whole thing; crawl towards it hand over hand; draw herself whole again one lit nerve at a time. 

She’d drowned her shame sometime in the second quarter. 

“Ow.” Alex gasps when Lucy pushes her down on the couch. Shit, it’d actually stopped hurting. She’d forgotten. 

“Oh, shit.” Lucy pulls back. “Are you okay?” 

“Try not to sit on my chest and we’ll be fine.” 

“How about your face?” 

“I can work with that.” 

//

That night is in no way, shape, or form either of their best performances. 

Still, there was something _real_ about it. 

Lucy is fairly certain that’s what saves them.


End file.
